


Careful With That Axe, Eugene

by dalniente



Category: Megamind (2010)
Genre: Gen, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25691896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalniente/pseuds/dalniente
Summary: Pre-movie AU. Hal has just been fired. Megamind has been holding himself in check, but new information has come to light and it seems Hal requires a direct approach. Bonus fic to accompany With Every Heartbeat I Have Left, but you don't need to read that first.
Comments: 33
Kudos: 167





	Careful With That Axe, Eugene

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place the evening after Chapter 5 of _With Every Heartbeat I Have Left_. For context: Pre-movie AU, Roxanne told Hal it was never going to happen and he got Titan levels of creeptastic. Megamind held off on issuing any direct threats, per Roxanne’s request, but...well, you'll see. Title from the (delightfully disturbing) [Pink Floyd song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9Q6qdR0Fvg). Care warning for a lot of screaming, if you listen to it.

Hal has not had a good day. And Hal is not having a good night.

Oh, his night was fine, overall. Aside from his lingering anger over getting fired, nothing out of the ordinary. Go home, eat leftover pizza, play some games, chat with some friends and acquaintances online, go to sleep. The usual.

But a little after three in the morning, he jumps awake with a yell to the sound of breaking glass. He kicks at his blanket, scrambles to sit up in bed—and then he freezes.

Megamind. Is sitting. On the end of his bed.

Megamind is sitting, crosslegged, with his back straight and his head up, on the narrow footrail and edge of the mattress of Hal's _bed_ , what the hell. And he's holding one of Hal's drinking glasses in one hand and his gun in the other. One of his eyes reflects the emerald-green glow of his customary firearm like a cat's.

He cocks his head at Hal as the latter stares at him.

"That was _fun_ ," Megamind says, his voice cold. "Let's do it again." He rears back and Hal flinches, shields himself with his arms.

"Not—not in the face, man, not—"

Megamind hurls the glass forward to shatter beautifully against the wall directly to the left of Hal's ear and rain sharp shards down onto Hal's pillow and sheets.

Hal does not move. He also doesn't speak. He has worked with Roxanne long enough to know that the de-gun's current shade of green and the way the barrel is flickering do not combine into anything positive.

"Hal Schtewart," Megamind says. "I am so very disappointed in you." Keeping his gun trained on Hal, he leans back, leans down from his perch, and picks up a third cup and a sheaf of papers. "I have been," he says, "endeavoring to exercise _restraint_ , thus far, in this…situation. Staying in my lane, so to speak. _However_." He places the cup by his knee and begins laying the papers out in front of him one by one as he speaks. "I was reviewing your building's keycard logs of the past few days and I noticed some interesting denied-entry records. It seems you are not currently permitted on the sixth floor, yet you have been attempting to gain access multiple times daily."

"I've been fired," Hal says, mulish. "Can't even get in the building now."

Megamind bares all his teeth, very briefly. "Ah," he says. "Yes. Yes, my associate was able to resolve the _immediate_ problem quite effectively via termination of employment. I would have preferred a touch more subtlety," he sighs, twirls his wrist, "sabotage your work, destroy your reputation, blah blah, _then_ fire you. But." He gestures at the matrix of papers he has arranged on the blanket. "Minion was adamant, and perhaps this is better handled…personally, after all."

Hal swallows. "I said I got fired," he insists. "It's not like I'll ever see her again. And why the hell are you on my bed?"

Megamind's lip curls. "I had to sit somewhere," he says, "and literally every single horizontal surface in this hole is covered in towers of pizza boxes."

"I've got some books too," Hal mumbles, and Megamind glares at him.

" _Books_ go on _shelves_ , Hal Schtewart," he says scathingly. "Preferably upright, rather than in a hafazard _stack_ on top of a two-by-four on top of a cinderblock on top of a milk crate."

Which…yeah. Yeah, okay, that's fair. Hal has to give him that one.

"And seeing as your new friends in the 'manosphere' are encouraging and coaching you on stalking behavior as well as your…earlier plan," Megamind continues as he leans forward to consult one of the papers in front of him, "and your lack of employment means—how did you put it? Ah, yes—you have, quote, 'all the time in the world now to scare the shit out of that bitch,'" he looks up, "I don't think I believe you, re: not seeing Roxanne again. So. I thought you and I should have a chat about this fixation of yours before it progresses any further."

Hal's face contorted at the mention of Roxanne. "Oh, _I'm_ fixated," he snarls, before he can stop himself. " _I'm_ fixated? Look who _literally kidnaps her once a week_."

"We all have our parts to play," Megamind says evenly. "And I believe Roxanne made it exceptionally clear to you the other night that our relationship is not a contentious one."

Hal sneers. "Stockholm Syndrome."

"Interestingly, not a real thing." Megamind cocks an eyebrow. "There's a pattern of behavior and psychology that may deserve study, but _syndrome_ is a misnomer; it has never been a diagnosable condition." He sighs. "But I'm getting sidetracked.

"Do you know what this is?" He glances at his gun. Wary, Hal nods. "Good. And do you know what happens if I shoot you with this particular setting? No? I call it _destroy_ because it's simple and has a nice ring to it, but what it does is generate a cascading concussive force. This tends to shatter inorganic solids—" He tosses the third glass, shoots it in midair. It explodes. Hal yelps again and cringes. "Particularly at close range like this. But due to the relative flexibility of the human ribcage, it would probably only injure your sternum. Rip the cartilage free of the surrounding ribs, snap the sternum in two.

"Now, the piece of bone we think of as the sternum," he says, "in humans, has three components: the manubrium, at the top, the gladiolus—that's the long flat piece in the middle—and the xiphoid process, which is that teensy little tab thingie at the bottom. If I shot you with this," he continues, moving his finger a little closer to the trigger, "the gladiolus would snap free of the manubrium, exactly here," tapping his own chest, "at the sternal angle, as the top of the gladiolus is shoved backwards into your chest cavity and directly down onto your heart, rupturing the superior vena cava and the aorta. And severely constricting the left pulmonary artery, which is _not_ a pleasant feeling, I can tell you." He smiles. "And you would die," he says, in case this was somehow not obvious, "and it would hurt. A _lot_."

Hal swallows hard and glares at him, frightened but still not entirely cowed. "You aren't a killer," he says, though he doesn't sound certain. "Roxie always says you aren't a killer."

Megamind's smile doesn't slip. "There's a lot about me 'Roxie' doesn't know," he says. Then he sighs. "But…fine. Fair enough. I suppose the solution to having one's bluff called is to simply…stop bluffing. So I'll put it to you this way." His tone shifts, goes abruptly sharp and businesslike, and he somehow manages to sit up even straighter. "Look at your hands, Hal Stewart."

Hal glances down almost involuntarily, blinking at the sudden lack of mispronunciation.

"You have fourteen joints in each hand, not counting those in your wrist," Megamind says. "That's twenty-eight in total. _There is a lot I can do to those without killing you_." He pauses to let that sink in. "And even if I don't—" He leans back again, leans down. Comes back up with a pair of pliers. "—Tell me, Hal Stewart, do you _enjoy_ having fingernails?"

Hal stops breathing.

"Do you want to _keep_ having fingernails?"

Pale, he nods.

Megamind nods back. "Most people do," he says. "So. I propose a very simple arrangement. _You_ want to keep having fingernails. _I_ want you out of my city by midnight." He smiles. "I think we can both get what we want. Help me help you, Hal Stewart. Help me help you keep your fingernails. You have a grandmother in Chicago; she misses you; I am sure she would love a surprise visit." When Hal only stares at him and doesn't reply, he drops his smile into a snarl. "Get out. _Don't_ come back. And if you or any of your little friends so much as _breathe_ in Roxanne's direction, we will have a major problem. _Do I make myself clear?_ "

Hal nods again, hard. Megamind studies him for a moment.

"I am not convinced," he says, eventually. "You seem to be a slow learner, based on the…evidence." He glances meaningfully down at the papers on the bed, which now have shards of glass strewn over them, then shifts his gaze to the pliers he's holding, the nose and jaws of which are crusted with something dark. Hal gulps. "Do I need to take one or two with me now, or do you understand how absolutely _fucking_ serious I am about this?"

Hal shakes his head hard enough to scatter pieces of broken glass out of his fluffy hair and across the floor. "Nope! I get it! Midnight, loud and clear! You got it!"

Megamind stares at him for another few seconds, then nods shortly. "Wonderful," he says. He unfolds his legs and slowly rises to his feet, glaring down at Hal as he steps off the bed. "I'm so very glad we understand one another. Have a nice life, Hal Stewart. Do try not to fuck up the rest of it." He pulls Hal's door open, spilling light from the hallway across Hal's blanket, all the glass sparkling there. "Oh—speaking of fucking up and the rest of your life, I'll be keeping an eye on you." He glances over his shoulder. "You pull this crap with someone again, and I won't waste time on a conversation. I'll just turn up, break both your hands so badly you'll never use them again, kick your ass, and leave you with a dazzling medical bill. We clear?"

"Yep!" Hal says. "Yep, totally! For sure!"

"Good," Megamind says, flat, and slams the door hard enough to make the windowpanes rattle.


End file.
